


The inconvenience of werewolf super-hearing

by AGSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 10:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGSilver/pseuds/AGSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles POV is just *so much* fun to write.</p>
<p>Also, there's kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The inconvenience of werewolf super-hearing

Stiles twirled his chair in circles. He ignored the half essay on the French Revolution on his computer screen, despite the accusatory blink of the cursor. 

Senior year of high-school. He was first string on the lacrosse team, after the final game last season, friends with some of the most popular people in school, doing well in all his subjects. Yay. Go Team Stiles. Unfortunately, he was still a teenager and with that came, not great responsibility, but hormonal stupidity. 

Derek was a bit of an idiot. Isaac had told Stiles about some of his training regimes, nonchalantly, which can’t have been easy for the survivor of an abusive father. To endure or to speak of. You don’t have to be Splinter to know that you don’t train your teenagers (mutant or were, turtles or wolves) in the martial arts by putting them right back in the situation that they had taken the bite to escape. And Derek always trusted the wrong people. Let his crazy uncle back in, as if no past experience or future torture could outweigh the value of family. ‘Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal’ muttered Stiles, playing with an eraser on his desk. Man, Firefly was awesome. He wished they’d make another movie. 

As a potential torturee, Stiles was particularly cranky about Derek letting Peter stay in his house, but it was also worth mentioning that when Derek went on a recruiting drive with his super-power bite mojo, he seemed to deliberately select the most unstable teenagers he could find. Teenagers. Unstable teenagers. Deliberately chosen.

Stiles could go on all night about how stupid Derek was, and he would. He would recite every act of stupidity and Stiles-directed violence over and over again in his head until he stopped wanting to drop down to his knees in front of Derek and beg for sex.

Seriously! Freakin’ hormones!

Derek was moronic. Derek was emotionally damaged beyond all repair and if threats were magically banned in the night, Derek would wake up in the morning mute: he had no other conversation. The cheesy lines that he used to distract the desk-cop at the station? Stiles had better material than that, and he was a virgin. Stiles might suspect that he would also abandon all duty to stare at Derek’s smiling mouth and be told he was beautiful, but it didn’t count if no-one else knew. It was like the ‘what happens in vegas’ rule, but in his brain. And any effectiveness would be due to Derek’s physical appearance and would not negate the mind-numbing cheesiness of Derek’s pathetic pick-up material.

Derek was moronic. But he had those eyebrows and those eyes and those cheekbones and those muscles... More muscles than Chris Hemsworth’s Thor. More muscles than comic-book Superman. Oh my god, oh my good god, those muscles. How very, very much he had noticed those muscles. Stiles would like to lick them. Derek was a bit slow; maybe Stiles could convince him it was for science. 

“Arrrgh!” he yelled, pushing his chair away from the desk again. “I do NOT want to fuck Derek Hale!”

There was a brief scratching sound at the window, and then the distinctive thump of an adult werewolf losing his grip on a window frame and falling one storey to hit hard earth. Stiles was up and looking out the window before he realised that staying in the chair might have bought him some plausible deniability. 

Derek was flat on his back on the lawn, staring wide-eyed up at the window, his mouth gaping open above his stubbled chin. Stiles lost a few seconds reviewing his memory. Was he sure he said the “NOT” in that sentence out loud?

Yes, he was sure.

Pretty sure.

Huh. Derek was gone.

 

ooOoo

 

The next pack meeting was a little awkward. As well as the usual litany of “don’t look at Derek too much”, “definitely do not look at his arse” and “stupid hormones!”, there were now two halves of his brain engaged in a heated argument about whether he had said what he thought he said, whether he should clarify what he meant to say (just in case it had come out wrong) and whether there was any good interpretation of a teenage boy alone in his room suddenly yelling out that he didn’t want to have sex with you. 

This was all Derek’s fault. What kind of idiot thought that he could keep invading someone’s privacy like that and not hear anything he wasn’t meant to? Derek was lucky that he hadn’t climbed in the bedroom window and found Stiles flat on his back, working his cock furiously and moaning Derek’s name.

Not that that had ever happened. Stiles just meant that, in a general way, Derek was lucky that Stiles wasn’t the kind of person who did that and that therefore Derek hadn’t climbed through Stiles’ bedroom window and seen that. Stiles adjusted his pants as discretely as he could and made a mental note to revisit that scenario later, in the privacy of his own shower.

He tuned briefly into the meeting, but it still seemed to be about training to be prepared for attacks in general, rather than a specific monster-of-the-week-type threat he should pay attention to. No-one looked like they noticed him re-arranging... things.

‘Smell!’ yelled Stiles’ brain at him suddenly. Oh my god. Smell! How could Derek not smell the arousal on him? Derek could probably smell the arousal on Stiles. Derek could detect lies. Derek could detect lies. Derek knew that Stiles had been lying, that Stiles had been aroused and that Stiles was lying when he said he didn’t want to fuck Derek which so very obviously meant that Stiles would like to fuck Derek that even a limited mind like Derek’s had probably come to the logical conclusion. 

Stiles bolted.

 

ooOoo

 

Scott caught up with him about 200m from the house, which meant that he’d probably stopped to have a drink and a snack before he chased after him.

Or, thought Stiles as he looked at his friend, he had stopped to pack up Stiles’ backpack and bring it out to him. Maybe Scott hadn’t even noticed that there was anything unusual about Stiles’ exit, maybe he was just being thoughtful. Stiles snorted. Right.

“What was that about?” asked Scott.

Stiles held a finger up to his lips and shhhed him harshly, but he took his backpack off Scott and pulled him along for another 100m. When he judged he was far enough away from the house that little were-wolf pitchers wouldn’t be able to hear, he paused and contemplated the tree line. Scott and he were great friends, they were. Stiles felt comfortable telling Scott anything. He was just being a good friend and making sure that he didn’t tell Scott anything that he wasn’t comfortable hearing. Derek was Scott’s packmate and Alpha, which was kind of like a weird cross between a brother and a boss. A mean boss that broke your arm in training sessions to emphasise their point.

It’s not like there was a good way to say “I’m really worried that Derek can smell how much he turns me on and that he knew I was lying when I said that I didn’t want to fuck him and I would appreciate some reassurance that you can’t smell me getting hard in my pants every time he frowns.” There is just no way to say that without disturbing Scott’s fragile peace of mind. Mind you, Scott’s mind in general was pretty fragile. Maybe it was better that it broke under supervision?

“Dude, why have we stopped here?” 

“I’m really worried that Derek can smell how much he turns me on and that he knew I was lying when I said that I didn’t want to fuck him and I would appreciate some reassurance that you can’t smell me getting hard in my pants every time he frowns” said Stiles in a frantic rush.

Scott paused, opened his mouth, closed his mouth, took a deep breath and then opened his mouth again. “Okay, firstly, I’ve never smelt you being aroused. Smelling emotions is pretty tricky unless you know someone well, so unless you’re popping a boner so hard that you’re leaking, I’d really have to be paying attention to notice.”

A little crudely phrased, but exactly what Stiles wanted to hear so he wasn’t going to bring up Ms Manners. He nodded thankfully at Scott.

“Secondly, the lying thing? That works like a polygraph.” Stiles made ‘yeah, yeah, hurry up’ hand motions at Scott. “Which means, it works by detecting emotion where there should be none? If the conversation was about sex, it would be really hard to separate a spike in heart-rate caused by lying from a spike in heart-rate caused by being embarrassed about the subject.”

‘Conversation’ was the wrong word but, yes! Yes! Home free! Two for two: Stiles was absolutely safe.

“Thirdly” continued Scott, to Stiles’ dawning horror “300 metres was probably not far enough away from the house to be having this conversation if you wanted it to be private.” Scott looked pointedly over Stiles’ shoulder at the burned down ruin of the house behind him.

Stiles’ shoulders froze up. He didn’t want to turn around. He really did not want to turn around.

He turned around.

Derek was leaning against the door frame of the Hale ex-house, frowning intently at Stiles.

Also, Jackson was leaning out of the living room window and laughing like a were-hyena, but Stiles was mainly looking at Derek right now.

Well. When he was thinking about clarifying the situation, he didn’t mean that he wanted to do it with the truth. 

With the instinct born of 12 years of friendship, Stiles’ hand darted out to grab Scott’s elbow before he consciously realised that he was being abandoned. “No” he said firmly. “Bad friend!”

“Oh, I am so not hanging around to hear this conversation.”

“No, you are hanging around to prevent my untimely demise.”

Scott just grinned at him heartlessly and used his stupid were-strength to shake Stiles free and make a clean getaway.

Stiles yelled a “Why are you such a sucky friend!?” into the woods after him, then turned around and had a heart attack.

“Aargh! Why would you do that?”

“I want to talk to you”

Stiles thought about running away or faking an attack-by-sylph. Any one of these trees could have a sylph in it, right? Presuming that they existed, or that Derek could be brought to believe that they existed. Going by the disconcerting number of times that Derek had been surprised by something turning out to be real, he was unlikely to be 100% sure that they weren’t. Surely if he screamed that the tree was pulling him in and then ducked really quickly behind it, Derek would be fooled and give him up for dead. Stiles eyed the trees for good candidates. Derek grabbed his elbow and held it firmly.

“I was taken by surprise the other night”

Seriously, Stiles can make this tree thing work.

“I mean, you’re younger, and human, and male” Derek frowned at the elbow he was clasping, apparently daring it to make a comment. “I hadn’t really thought about it before.” Derek was now glaring at Stiles’ lips. “At least, I thought that I hadn’t. But, I’ve been told that I’ve been sending out mixed signals for a while now.”

Derek moved a bit closer to Stiles, his elbow-grip shifting into more of a elbow-caress. At this point Stiles’ hormones commit their greatest betrayal to date and shut down all higher-function processing.

His brain was officially on emergency-power only, and it acknowledged three facts: Derek was right there, Derek had said something that might relate to being attracted to Stiles and Derek was touching Stiles. Stiles leaned his head to the side a little and stepped forward to slide his lips across Derek’s mouth. 

Derek made a shocky little gaspy-sound and stopped talking about his feelings. Encouraged, Stiles swiped his lower lip slowly against Derek’s and then ventured a quick lick.

Aargh! Sylph attack! Oh, no, wait: that was Derek pushing him against a tree. 

Derek was apparently okay with skipping the awkward emotional denouement, because the next thing that Stiles knew, his legs were hiked up around Derek’s waist, held there by strong, warm hands clasping his thighs. Derek’s face was pushing up into his and then Stiles was being thoroughly kissed, stubbled cheeks slowly abrading his skin in a really good way. Wow, boys were great. Stiles was officially over women: boys meant skipping feelings and getting right to....holy cow? Were those Derek’s hands on his ass? 

Derek liked Stiles’ ass, going by the heart-felt groping. Stiles was prepared to admit, in these circumstances and at this time only, that he was okay with that. A little bit of leverage to grind down with would be great too, but not if it meant stopping kissing long enough to mention it. Derek’s tongue flickering over the roof of his mouth was really working for him. Stiles was taking a stand against stopping.

Ha! Legs! Stiles used his legs to pull Derek even closer, and that was appreciated by all parties involved. Shit! All parties.

Stiles tore his mouth away from Derek, who chased after it for a second then seemed to accept the difficulties of the positional height differential and settled for his neck instead. Stiles lost the ability to focus for a second and got a strong grip on Derek’s hair to encourage this new interest instead. 

Parties! 

“Derek, are we still in were-earshot of the house?” 

Derek paused for a moment, then went back to licking and sucking at Stiles’ collarbone.

“Dammit!” Stiles pulled Derek’s head away from his neck. Derek let out a pitiful whimper, but Stiles still insisted that they move the sexy-times to a more private tree. 

He didn’t need a were-hyena judging his newbie sex-skills. Though it turns out that he was entirely receptive to Derek’s tips and pointers when they took the form of “yes”, “there, harder” and “don’t you dare stop”.

 

ooOoo

 

Two months later Stiles found Derek reading a book in German (it might have been about vampires, but Stiles was just basing that on the stylised fangs on the covers. Given that a disturbing number of supernatural species seemed to come equipped with fangs, it was anyone’s guess, really). One arm was crooked, supporting his head on his hand and his elbow on the arm of the decaying couch. The other curved under the book gently. Derek was frowning, but this specific shade of frown was less “I am confused by this language that is not English” and more “our dire fate is dire”. 

Stiles took a moment to appreciate the scene. His boyfriend was hot and could read in multiple languages. Go Team Stiles!

Then he dragged Derek off to his bedroom and made him conjugate German verbs while Stiles licked happily at his cock. When Derek started spontaneously conjugating Latin verbs, Stiles sucked him all the way down until he came with a shout*.

**Author's Note:**

> * I like to think he shouted "sum adventum!”, because it’s punny.


End file.
